


More Than Meets the Eye

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blind!Connor, Eventual Romance, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gavin Reed Deserves Happiness, Gavin Reed Needs a Hug, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Kinda, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychic!Connor, Romance, Supportive Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-28 09:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16720491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: Connor Anderson starts a brand new job, the job of his dreams... helping DPD Homicide as an administrative assistant. He clashes with one of their most prominent detectives but God help him, he can't shake the feeling that Sgt. Detective Gavin Reed is way more than he seems.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone here's something else I did instead of FINISHING EVERYTHING I HAVE STARTED  
> I mean...  
> hope ya like it, have fun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor meets the enigmatic and angry Sgt. Detective Reed... spoiler alert, it ends badly.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hank Anderson is looking over his son anxiously, almost as if he were checking the younger man over for injury when in reality he’s checking for any signs that he might be unprepared to work.

Connor has to laugh. “You’re more nervous than I am!”

“Am not.”

“It’s true! I’m fine, Dad. I’m excited, I want to do this. I’m ready.”

Hank sighs and opens the door, guiding his son by the elbow down the front steps before locking up behind them.

A lieutenant detective in the Detroit Police Department, Hank had worked side by side with the homicide unit and its captain, Jeffrey Fowler, for the past fifteen years. Over time, he’s seen the huge amounts of effort that the department has to put in to solve a case, and when Captain Fowler offhandedly exclaimed last month that he needs an assistant, Hank got the dumbest, smartest idea. Smartest because he knew that this would give his son the dream he always had, and dumbest because his nerves are shot.

He would get his son an interview with the Human Resources department so that he could be Homicide’s assistant. Connor’s dream has always been to work homicide as a detective. Even as a baby he had loved to copy the police siren sounds, pretend cops and robbers, and even pretend to arrest his daddy.

His dreams were dashed early in life, being diagnosed with Stargardt’s Disease when he was six. The disease, a form of juvenile macular degeneration, promised to take his vision by the time he became an adult.

Hank remembers how he cried that night, mourning the future his son could never have. He took his entire savings and invested it in specialists and therapists to help him adjust to his slowly-fading vision.

Connor had adjusted well, although he’d lost most of his central vision by age fifteen and went through bouts of anxiety and depression. Still, Hank steeled his resolve not to let his son’s future fade, and he sold his house, moving into an apartment near the precinct to put his boy through college.

Now, at twenty-six years old, he has very little vision but all of his confidence, and has worked in several positions since he was eighteen as an assistant, a researcher, and a receptionist in various companies and school science teams while he continued his degree. Hank knows his resume is perfect for this, and it would fulfill a small part of his dream to become an assistant in the Homicide department.

Connor had nailed his interview, and until Fowler had read the disability disclosure in his application, he hadn’t even noticed Connor’s blindness. He hired him on the spot.

“Are you sure you remember everything you’re supposed to do?” He asks as they drive, glancing at his son from the corner of his eye.

“Yes, I remember! I’m going to be Captain Fowler’s personal assistant, filtering his emails and phone calls as well as scheduling his meetings. I will also run the information that the detective ask me to run, including researching previous addresses and other background information and write reports on what I find. I’ll also be in charge of opening the bullpen every morning, including laying out all the files for the detectives and opening the break room. You’re going to regret having to take me to work so early every day,” he ends with a laugh.

Hank grumbles as he glances at the clock in the dashboard, which reads 6:58am. “You’re right I already hate this.”

Connor grins. “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll start the coffee first thing. Actually…” Connor tilts his head. “Do you happen to know everyone’s coffee orders? It would be a nice gesture to buy everyone’s favorites today.”

Connor places the orders through his phone, asking it to verbally confirm the order. He has to laugh at one order in particular: a supersized black coffee with not one, not two, but _three_  shots of espresso with sweetener, but no cream. “Someone is a caffeine addict,” he comments as the order processes and the phone verbally confirms the transaction.

“Who’s that?”

“Uh, the triple shot in a treinta guy.”

“Oh, that would be Reed. Yeah, the prick will finish that and the entire pot of coffee before noon, and he won’t even reset the coffee machine.”

“Noted,” Connor laughs.

The lower levels of the precinct are already full, but most detectives don’t report for duty until at least 8:30 every morning, so their floor is mostly empty, except for his own father’s desk which he sits at, disgruntled. Connor hands him the coffee he ordered and sets about repeating the process he’s learned in training.

He places each coffee on each detective or officer’s desk, along with the files they need for the day. Because it’s his first day, he hasn’t written any reports for any of them, but over time he supposes that will change.

He returns to his desk and starts up all of his databases and programs, and opens Captain Fowler’s calendar. He has an earbud in one ear reading the calendar to him out loud since he can’t see it. He makes all the necessary adjustments as he goes through the captain’s email, updating his calendar and marking certain emails as urgent so that he can read them first.

He’s been working for about an hour, Officer Chen giving him her notes from a canvass she performed last night to compile with the notes of the other officers for his first official report, when heavy steps echo past his ear.

Connor’s lost his central vision, but he still perceives some light and shadow from his periphery, and he sees the person grouch by him and stop by the desk he can tell is Sergeant Detective Gavin Reed’s desk.

He puts the coffee Connor bought in the microwave, tasting it and grunt an appreciative thanks.

That’s when Connor _sees_ it. The abundance of light surrounding the man shifts and fades all around the man’s body, different colors fading in and out of his limited view. That doesn’t matter, he’s seen enough. Bright yellow like lemon, dark cloudy red. A bit of green mixing in with the yellow.

Detective Reed isn’t a prick like everyone thinks. He is not cruel, or mean. The man is _angry_ and _afraid,_ the kind of emotion that gives a person a whip for a tongue and a wall miles thick around their soul.

Connor’s breath leaves his lungs. Despite the pain he obviously carries with him, the light the man has is beautiful, a rare treat for his poorly functioning eyes. He wishes he could see his face.

“How are you holding up, kid?”

“Fine. Dad… you told me that that detective was a prick.”

“He is,” Hank snorts.

“You’re wrong,” Connor frowns, his voice barely above a whisper. “I _saw_ it, Dad. You’re wrong.”

Hank sighs. Ever since Connor was little, he’s claimed to be able to see things, see the emotional and physical states of people in manifestations of light or color. As a kid, Hank always chalked it up to a solid imagination. After Connor’s vision went as a teenager, when he still claimed to see those things, Hank called bullshit.

When Connor told him at twenty-two with tears in his eyes that he was afraid of the gaping, black hole that had suddenly appeared in his father’s calming, familiar light, he’d rolled his eyes… and then had a pulmonary embolism that nearly killed him.

Thankfully he’d lived and with months of exercise, medication, and a strict diet, recovered completely, but after that, he started doubting exactly how much bullshit there was to this whole _seeing-vibes_ bit. He’s stopped trying to understand it, but he doesn’t bother protesting it either.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “He emptied the coffee machine again.”

Connor laughs, pulling himself to his feet and stretching. “I’m on it.”

* * *

 

He doesn’t get to speak to Reed, as he’s taken to calling him in his head, until about four in the afternoon.

“Hey… uh, Anderson right?”

“That’s me. What can I do for you, Detective Reed?” he asks as professionally as he can. Inside, he’s melting. His _voice_ is just like his light, sharp and intense, soft but also cloudy and gravelly, and other descriptors that probably don’t even make sense, but Connor doesn’t care. _His voice is just like his light._

“Yeah, just… I fucking need you to look something up. I would do it myself but I’m swamped.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

“I’m not some kind of lazy piece of shit, okay? I don’t want your help.”

Connor shakes his head. “I understand, please don’t worry. When do you need it by?”

“Tonight if you can, or first thing tomorrow.”

Connor sets aside his other tasks and listens to the information that Detective Reed emails him.

It’s a name and an address, but he can see why the detective thinks something is off. The address does not exist. In fact, that address would put the home in the middle of the river.

He works late, searching previous addresses for any of that person’s aliases, finally coming up with an address in Midtown. Accessing the email again, Connor quickly calculates that the person in question could not have committed the murder because travel times did not match with the approximate time of the crime.

He stays late enough that even his father has to drag him out to eat, but he finishes the report and places it in Detective Reed’s inbox first thing in the morning, along with all of the other files he requested.

He sets about his routine as normal, smiling at the detective’s punctuality, walking in at precisely nine in the morning. His smile fades, however, when he notes the dangerous amount of that cloudy, dark red in the corner of his vision when the man walks by.

He hasn’t even had five minutes to prepare himself when the man storms over to his desk, slamming the report down in front of him. “What the fuck is this?” he hisses.

“Uh—it’s the report you asked for, Detective.”

“I didn’t need a whole goddamn report, what am I, your fucking fifth grade English teacher?”

“No, this has the information you requested,” Connor answers sternly, confused and very offended. “I don’t understand the problem. I was trying to help you, Detective Reed.”

“ _No,_ ” Reed hisses, now right next to his ear. “This is a ton of shit I _didn’t_ ask for. Listen  kid, I’m only gonna tell you this once.” He straightens up and rips the report in half, tossing it carelessly toward the trash can, the pieces fluttering down on either side of it. “ _You are not a goddamn detective, okay?_ You’re never going to be a cop. I don’t need your help and I don’t want it either. Just stick to getting me my fucking coffee and reading emails and don’t _ever_ try to do my job for me again.”

He’s gone before Connor can whisper a shaken, “Yes, Detective.”


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detective Reed is sorry he was such an asshole.

“I told you he’s a prick,” Hank comments as he drives them home later that day.

Connor shakes his head. “I don’t understand,” he says numbly. “I really did… my absolute best. I did everything he asked for and I went the extra mile. I don’t know what more I could have done.”

“Guess you didn’t hear him, kid. He doesn’t want _more_ , he wants less. Look the truth is, you probably nailed it but he is very picky about who gets into his inner circle and he’s even more picky about who he can safely perceive as better than him at something.”

“Is that why he said he doesn’t want me to do his job?”

“Probably. Look, I’ve been working with him for years and the best I can tell you is just do exactly what he asks for and keep you distance. Maybe you’re right and he’s not a bad guy, but he’s never going to let you find out. So just do yourself and him a favor, and drop it.”

* * *

 

Connor doesn’t want to drop it, but he is still shaken from the altercation almost a week ago, now. He takes his father’s advice for once, not saying anything to the man except what was key for whatever he wanted done.

He still thinks his father is wrong, though.

Today, he schedules a weekly meeting with Fowler just to update himself on things Fowler wants done, and things that he can improve on or help the bullpen with. This environment doesn’t slow down much, but he likes the energy of the place, and he likes Fowler’s red-orange light, a rare light for him to see. He keeps Fowler in his periphery often and enjoys working with the man. He is very brusque and to the point, but his mind is sharp and tactical, and he can see how much the captain appreciates having him there to handle administrative things so that he can exercise his sharp intellect to bring people justice.

After the meeting, which is short, he goes to check the coffee machine, which is empty again at this time of day. He orders Captain Fowler’s lunch and sets about compiling more notes from Officers Chen and Collins, who are both very friendly. He appreciates Chen for her rare golden light, which he is grateful for, and the undertone of deep green that explains her calm, personable nature. She tells him in conversation over lunch that she was meant to be a doctor, that was what her family wanted, but she didn’t do well in college. As such, she dropped out and pursued her passion instead.

He tells her he’s glad she chose this, and that she should be proud of herself. He tells her to keep up what she’s doing because she is blessed and protected for giving her career to helping the people of Detroit.

Confused and a bit touched, she’d given him a strong hug, and that set him at ease for the rest of the day.

Connor really enjoys hugs.

Today his father drops by his desk and asks him to run several background checks and ruffles his hair as he leaves, telling him about following up on some lead. It improves Connor’s mood to hear the cheer in the lieutenant’s tone.

“Hey, uh… Anderson?”

“What can I do for you, Detective?” he asks, not having seen Reed come up to his desk. He is wholly unprepared to talk to him and he hopes his voice isn't as shaky out loud as it sounds in his own ears.

“Jesus,” Reed mutters. “Look can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

Connor nods, taking a steadying breath before asking him where to go.

“What do you mean, you can’t just… oh, right,” he ends awkwardly. “Um, you like the archive room don’t you?”

Connor has to hide his smile AND his sigh of relief, and it’s damn hard to do both. “Yes, I spend a lot of time there.”

“Oh, that’s uh… that’s good I guess. Do you need help?”

“I’m alright,” Connor says calmly, taking his baton from where it is resting against his desk. he knows the way to the archive room by now, but he can’t be too careful with the steps.

When they reach the room, Reed heaves a heavy, burdened sigh. “Hey, I just… wanted to talk to you about the other day. I was really unprofessional and I just… am hoping I can make it up to you.”

Connor tilts his head. That is the strangest apology he has ever received in his life, and it’s about to get weirder.

“I know… I know that I probably scared you a bit. I’m sorry I was hurtful and disrespectful… and honestly fucking scary, I would never want someone in my face like that. Just… know that it won’t be like that anymore okay? Let me make it up to you.”

There was that phrase again. Most people offer apologies with a simple “I’m sorry” or “I apologize” or something along those lines. They don’t fully admit their wrongdoing, just say that they are sorry _IF_ they acted any type of way. Rarely has anyone ever been so direct in admitting their fault honestly, and even less people have ever offered to make it up to him outside of some flirty novel-like scenario.

What is worse, Connor has missed this gruff, awkward tone of his voice. His voice is practically music to Connor’s sharp hearing, and it makes his insides weak. He has never felt so strongly inclined to listen to someone before and he is sure it means something.

He can’t know what until the man knows he’s forgiven, though, but try as he might he can’t formulate an answer.

“I—th-thank you, he finally stutters. “I don’t know what to say.” He can feel his face heating up.

“Say you’ll forget this ever happened.”

Connor breaks into a laugh. “Funny, I’ll think about it.”

“Hardy har,” Reed says dryly. He sounds much more at ease now, and Connor turns his face toward the wall, trying to get a better look at him. The bright light surrounding him overtakes most of his shape, and his little remaining vision is too blurry to see anything other than the vague shape of a man. Connor decides he likes the man’s height.

“Look, I should also apologize for overstepping a boundary you obviously had.”

“Nah, the only boundary was my shitty mood. The truth is, you did an awesome job on that report. I… wouldn’t mind having help that thorough from time to time.”

“Then I know how you can make it up to me, Detective,” Connor says happily. “I’ll always write the reports how you ask. If you need me to be more thorough, you can ask me politely to do so.”

“Fuck, what am I, three?” he grumbles under his breath. Out loud, he says, “Yeah fine. I’ll let you know. And um, I don't know if anyone ever told you but thanks for the coffee.”

Connor’s smile is bashful. “Anytime, Detective.”

“Fuck sakes. Just Gavin or Reed is fine.”

“Thank you for speaking to me, Gavin.”

He hears the way Gavin sucks in a sharp breath, sees vaguely how his whole body freezes for just a moment.

When he walks away, Connor’s face heats up because Gavin’s light is entirely engulfed in soft, light pink.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they're making an effort to be friends, how nice.  
> also, Gavin is pretty sure he *didn't* say that.

Connor loves his job. 

He loves helping the detectives stay at their absolute finest. He has taken to getting them all coffee once a week, and buying them fruit or donut trays once a month. He doesn’t really see how they react to the treats but he does hear them talk about how kind he is.

Chen is his good friend now, as is a patrol officer from downstairs named Maurice Wilson. Chen’s partner, Officer Miller, often joins them for late lunches or an occasional dinner out on a weekend. The group have become tight knit, and thankfully, they all seem to have very little issue with his disability.

Over time, the awkward, tentative communication between him and Gavin has changed into a much easier professional relationship; They chat calmly and work much better together, and even though the man still seems to keep himself walled off from the rest of his colleagues, he never misses a chance to spare Connor a kind word, or an extra cookie from Subway, or something to celebrate the end of a difficult case. In turn, Connor does gives the very best of his time and effort to Gavin’s cases. 

Their friendship is growing too. It started simply, mostly with Connor taking a mug of coffee and sitting in the break room after the new pot finally brewed. When Gavin came in and filled his own mug, dressing it only with sugar, he awkwardly stood by Connor. “Uh, mind if I sit?” he asked gruffly.

Connor’s smile had been answer enough. They didn’t talk much while they finished their drinks, but Gavin could tell that Connor enjoyed the company, so he tried to make it a habit to sit with the younger man at least ten minutes out of each shift. On several occasions Connor didn’t really notice him sit down, his earbuds in both ears and a pleased, peaceful expression on his face. Gavin had asked what he was listening to. Once it had been Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade, and the other times it was some other involved four part classical piece or an audio book. At first he had been confused, questioning Connor’s taste in music. “What? But it doesn’t even have any words!”

Connor shrugged. “Some do, the operas and the choral ones--there are famous choral ones you probably don’t even think about anymore, but the entire work is incredibly beautiful. Like, how about the Hallelujah Chorus? Have you ever listened to the entire work?”

“Uh--no, not much of a Bible type.”

Connor shrugged again. “The music is still beautiful. Also, classical music used to be used a lot in cartoons. My dad used to play classic cartoons for me when I was really little, and when I got older and couldn’t see them as well, I still knew exactly what was happening because of the music. It… kept me sane when my vision went.”

After that, Gavin added a few famous classical pieces to his iTunes library. He finds that after really difficult cases, the music soothes his nerves and puts him in a very calm, receptive state. He wonders if this is the key to Connor’s perpetually cheerful attitude.

They started to talk about anything and everything during their little coffee breaks. Connor would go into detail about the books he was listening to, and Gavin would question all of the ridiculous plot holes. Gavin would tell him about some movie or show he watched, and Connor would do the same. Sometimes Chen and Miller would join them, amazed at how easily Gavin seemed to smile around the other man, and joining in the jokes and all of the popular movie or tv show-related memes. The conversations led to plenty of laughter, and Connor and Gavin found themselves getting very comfortable with each other.

To this day, if anyone attempts to call him anything other than “Reed” or “Detective” he gets extremely defensive, letting people know that they are not friends. When Connor started using his first name without getting chewed out, especially given the epic fuckery that happened his first two days working there, people took notice. It always tended to fluster Gavin’s light when someone mentioned it, immediately turning all of it pink. He always just grumbles something crass and cuts off the topic before anything else can be said, but Connor always notices and smiles.

Captain Fowler commends Gavin for his efficiency and his high rate of closed cases, which Connor only finds out about when Gavin places a hand over his on his desk. 

“Gavin!” Connor exclaims, pleased to see his friend.

“Hey let’s go out.”

“What?”

“I’m taking you out.”

“God I hope not.”

“What?” Gavin asks, confused.

“You’re a homicide detective you can’t take me out. Who would investigate you?”

Connor can’t see his face, but he knows that Gavin is rolling his eyes. “To lunch, fucking idiot.”

“Oh, well sure, that’s much better than being murdered by your best, murder-detective friend. What’s the occasion?”

It’s quiet for a moment. “Am I really your best friend?”

Connor smiles brightly. “Sure, one of them anyway. Where are you taking me?”

“Vincini’s.”

“Fancy. Why?”

“Because I owe you a huge thank you.”

Connor feels his cheeks turn hot almost instantly. “What? Me? What’d I do?”

“I just… well, Fowler says that the department has gotten a commendation for our high case closure rates as a whole, but he says the DC specially commended me, he said that I was the most improved.”

Connor stands up and hugs him. “That makes me really happy,” he says quietly.

Slowly, Gavin’s arms come around him, pulling him into a warm, comfortable embrace. “Thank you,” Gavin says against his shirt. “You were the only one that wouldn’t give up on me. You’ve helped me so much… I don’t think I deserve a friend like you.”

Connor’s arms tighten around his shoulders. “I’m not sure what you mean, but you deserve all of this and so much more.”

Gavin pats his back, releasing him and taking his arm to guide him outside. The action is so natural now that neither of them makes a note of the way Gavin gently takes him by the elbow, his fingers strong and secure and his hand warm and gentle.

“I mean that after I bitched you out that day, I fully expected you to feel like I was some kind of asshole and stay away from me, but… you were still as nice as always. I mean--I know that you were more than a bit shaken up by what I said, and I honestly still regret that. But… I don’t know. You forgave me so easily. You never gave in when everyone told you to stay away. You… can’t know what that means to me.”

Connor lifts a shoulder and offers him his best smile. “I always knew you weren’t what they said. Thank you for proving me right.”

“I don’t know about that. I like being an asshole.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, take you, for instance. You saw past it all and made me want to be better. If most people give up when I’m an asshole, they don’t deserve for me not to be.”

Connor shrugs. “Maybe that’s true, but my advice would be  _ not  _ to open with the asshole bit. It’s not fun.”

Gavin has to laugh. “Hey, fuck you,” he says between chuckles.

Connor smiles.

* * *

 

Gavin is having the time of his life at Vincini’s. Connor is witty, his relaxed sort of wisdom oddly both thoughtful and amusing. He loves reading Connor’s facial expressions, his coffee-colored eyes so alive and expressive when they widen, or when the corners crinkle as he laughs.

He finds it easy not to pay attention to the sharp line of his jaw, flop of equally-coffee-colored hair on his forehead glinting chocolatey in the lighting of the restaurant, when Connor’s laughter is so lighthearted and contagious. He finds it less hard to pay attention to the way his lips wrap around his fork though, or the dexterity of his fingers that once again almost make Gavin forget that the younger man is blind.

Connor always manages to keep the topic light, keep attention away from them, keep Gavin comfortable. He doesn’t know how, but Gavin is eternally grateful. He hasn’t felt this at home in the presence of someone before since…

_ Simon… _

“Gavin? Why are you suddenly so sad?” He finds it eerie that Connor can tell how his mood drops without seeing him. 

He sucks in a breath and releases it as a sigh. “It’s… it’s nothing, tell me more about… what were we talking about?” he ends lamely.

Connor puts his elbow on the table, his hand cradling his chin as he directs his unflinching, searching look right at Gavin. It’s amazing that he has not clue what he’s even seeing because he smirks when Gavin squirms. “I think we were talking about whatever is bothering you,” he says simply.

Gavin gives up. “It’s been rough lately. I know I’ve been more assholish than normal, and the whole office probably hates my guts, but none of them get it, and I don’t want them to because they’ll start feeling sorry for me or some shit and I hate that. Fuck, look--Connor, you’re honestly an amazing friend, but I really don’t want to get into why it’s such a shitty couple of weeks. Don’t take it personally, okay?”

Connor nods easily. “Sure. Just… I’m here to listen if you change your mind. I’m sorry that whoever it is still weighs so heavily on you.”

Gavin frowns. He didn’t say anything about a person, did he?


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin asks around.  
> Connor is fucking cute.

Gavin spends the rest of the week pondering that conversation.

He’s a fucking detective. He knows, he’s  _ been trained  _ to pay attention to his words and how they affect people. He  _ knows  _ for a fact that he didn’t say that his reason for his sudden moods had to do with a person. 

He also knows that Connor is remarkably observant. It is possible that he picked up on some kind of cue in his voice or in… something… that let him know he was probably feeling that way because of a person.  But... that doesn’t fit anything he knows about Connor so far. 

He figures he’ll ask around about him and see what other people think about him, and it seems to be the right decision when Connor’s friend Chen walks into the break room after him, making a beeline for the coffee machine.

Gavin turns around and decides that now is as good a time as any. “Hey Chen.”

“Ah! Reed, hey. Seen Connor today?”

“He said something about a doctor’s appointment.” Which is true. Connor has monthly meetings with several specialists concerning his vision although most of the time they happen outside of work hours, and so there are rarely ever days when he isn’t around.

Gavin is glad today is one of them. “Can I ask you something about him?”

“Sure,” she says, turning her entire attention to him. 

“Have you ever… okay, better question. How did you guys become friends?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. We just started hanging out. He is very easy to talk to, you know? Coffee and a guy that always has it worse than you do because he’s blind, and yet somehow manages to make more of his situation than any of us and our bullshit. He knows a lot, you know?”

Gavin nods. “He does know a lot.”

“Too much, I think. It’s weird that sometimes he knows things about how I’m feeling or what I’m thinking even though he can’t see me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well like, one day it was a really rough shift, there were these kids that called 911 on their parents, there was just… a bunch of shit. I felt like even though we were responding, we weren’t helping. Those parents constantly get domestic calls, and those kids were terrified. It felt like we were trying to plug a leak in a dam with some bubblegum, you know?”

“Sure, I get it.”

“Anyways, that shift was dragging so I came in here for coffee, and Connor had just set the thing to brew so we started talking. He opened up about his dad, the Lieutenant, and I told him about my parents wanting me to be a doctor, and he said something that kind of blew my mind. He said, ‘you’re blessed and protected for choosing to follow your passion. Even when you feel like nothing you’re doing is helping, know that there is always someone or something looking out for you and those you help.’ That’s a weird thing to say, right?”

Gavin frowns. "Yeah that is... oddly specific."

“But… it helped me feel better. And after that, I kept coming around. I like his energy, you know? He is very helpful and he never runs out of ‘the right thing to say’.”

“He did something similar to me the other day. It’s weird, it’s almost like once he gets a certain look on his face, you can’t help but tell him things, you know? But I know I didn’t tell him  _ everything,  _ but he still figured it out.”

“Yeah. I like it, it keeps me honest.”

“It keeps me nervous,” Gavin mutters to himself.

Wilson also had something similar to say. “Connor’s a weird one, huh? Why are you asking all this questions?”

“Just… asking. Getting to know what people think, you know?”

“You’ve gotten real protective of him,” Wilson says slyly.

“I’m  _ just. Asking. _ Now answer the fucking question.”

“Look all I know is that he understands people in a way that most people don’t. I swear you could put him in an interrogation room and he would close every fucking case. He just reads people, which is incredible to me because it’s not like he can see them.”

Gavin thinks for a second that it would be funny to experiment with that one day, but Fowler would absolutely murder them all, including Connor for going along with it.

He can’t have anything bad happening to Connor. It just won’t do.

“Psst! Houston paging Reed. Where’d ya go?”

Gavin frowns. “What?”

“Daydreaming about your new bestie? You know, you’d better make a move or something fast… there’s some guy coming around him a lot, has him really excited.”

Gavin feels like he has suddenly developed the magical ability to turn into a thundercloud at will. “ _ Excuse _ me?”

Wilson backpedals, his hands raised in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was… just saying.”

Gavin can hear his blood boiling, the whistle of it turning into steam in his ears. “Right well keep your nose in your business and out of mine,” he snaps, turning on his heel and stomping back to his desk.

Why didn’t Connor tell him about this… whoever it was? He feels… irrational. Of course Connor has other friends, other things to do on his weekends, besides filing and researching for DPD Homicide, and other friends besides the cops and detectives he has met. Why wouldn’t he meet whoever ‘some guy’ is? 

Still the idea makes him furious. Connor is blind, the guy could be trying to take advantage of him or something--

_ Fucking liar, lying to yourself, _  he tells himself.  _You're not worried about the guy taking advantage of him, you're worried that there's someone other than you to take him away._

“What crawled up your ass?”

Gavin hesitates. The old man would be an excellent source of information but he needs to stay casual. He doesn’t want to make Connor or his father feel like there’s something between them when there isn’t. After all, he’s just trying to learn about his new friend and look out for him. It’s the least he can do.

“I, uh… just fucking lost my place on some file. If Connor were here he’d figure it out in a second.”

Hank chuckles. “Yeah well he took the day off today. He has two doctor’s appointments and he’s going to meet an old college friend for lunch.”

“Sounds fun. He did mention a good friend from back then,” he lies.

“Yeah Josh is a nice guy. Made friends with him his freshman year. He was actually the guy in charge of getting him all the books in Braille. He really helped us out, got them used for a much lower price than if we’d had to have them ordered or converted ourselves. They stayed friends all through college and after.”

“Oh that is nice,” Gavin says lamely. Instead he focuses on the fact that he has a  _ name. _ The douchebag’s name is  _ Josh.  _ It’s such a douch-y name, too. Everyone that’s a douche is named Josh. He’s probably a prick.

“I honestly think he has a bit of a crush on Connor, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Gavin bites back his urge to growl so hard his cheek bleeds a little. “That doesn’t worry you at all?”

“Me? Nah,” the Lieutenant waves off, “Connor is a big boy. Look if there’s anything I’ve learned from all this is that people like Connor have to learn how to take care of themselves and be independent, and we have to let people like him tell us what it is they need. Connor doesn’t need me to play the protective dad cop card, he needs me to trust him.”

Gavin thinks about that long after the Lieutenant has walked away. 

* * *

 

Gavin is more relieved than he’ll ever be able to say when Connor walks into the bullpen at exactly 7:30 the next morning, bearing coffee for everyone and a tray of donuts. He is practically whistling as he goes into the archive room, getting right into his filing that he has to catch up on from his day off.

Gavin slips into the archive room after him. “Need any help?”

“Oh, hey Gavin! You're hear super early. No, I’m okay for now thanks. Hey, if you can, it would be really helpful if you pass out all the coffees. I… know you normally get the treinta with the triple shot, but there was a new thing in the menu and I wanted to see if you’d like it. If not, I’ll happily buy you a new one.”

“What is it?” Gavin asks dubiously.

“It’s called a Blonde espresso. It’s slightly sweeter and less intense, they told me, but it has way more caffeine.”

“Oh that sounds like something I need.”

Connor grins. “I hope you like it.” He turns his face to the side the way he does when he wants to look at someone, and his cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink. 

Gavin finds that oddly endearing. “What?” he asks, smiling.

Connor shrugs. “Nothing,” he answers, turning back to the files at hand.


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor finally understands the reason for Gavin's emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst alert

Connor hates how troubled Gavin is. The summer is just starting to pick up in Detroit, the air changing and giving people a sense of freedom, but Gavin just seems to become more and more bogged down, as if he were wrapped in chains. His light is dim and cloudy, so sad and angry, like he carries a constant thunderstorm around him. Honestly Connor has tried to be a concerned friend, but has mostly ended up staying out of his way. He is not sure which Gavin appreciates more.

Today is June 16th, he notes as he dates some incident reports that are meant for Fowler. He takes them along with the files in Fowler’s inbox and goes to his office, which is a couple of steps up and then through a door, but he’s gotten used to managing it with files and things in his hand.

When Gavin doesn’t show up at his same time, Connor frowns.

When he still doesn’t show an hour later, Connor worries. He asks his father where Gavin is, and he answers that he hasn’t the foggiest idea.

When midday comes around and he knows that Gavin won’t come, he orders Fowler’s lunch to be delivered and takes off, calling a car for himself and heading to what he knows to be Gavin’s address.

He notes the date again, and it makes his heart sink into his stomach. He doesn’t know what’s going on but today, he wants to be there for someone he knows in his heart should not be alone.

* * *

 

Gavin spends the next week in emotional shambles.

He doesn’t know what to do… or how to feel other than numb. 

This year, instead of wallowing in the numbness and drinking himself into oblivion, he wants to talk it out, to  _ say  _ what he feels out loud. He wonders if that is Connor’s influence. If it is, he is oddly happy about that.

He goes to the memorial park, having learned the way many, many years ago. He sits on the ground in front of the small slab of black marble.

_ Simon Taylor Strand _ _   
_ _ August 1, 1987 - June 16, 2011 _ _   
_ __ Beloved Son, Brother, Friend, and Lover

He traces the word ‘lover’ with his finger and then he starts to talk. “I’m sorry I haven’t come see you in so long. I’d say I’ve been busy but to be honest, I’m probably just avoiding it. I miss you, you’re a ghost everywhere I look. And… I’m scared as fuck because suddenly it’s starting to hurt less and less. I mean--it still hurts,  _ God it hurts-- _ But I don’t want to forget you, I… I’m fucking sorry,” he rambles through his tears.

He swallows hard, taking several deep breaths to keep himself from sobbing. “I met someone,” he whispers. “Someone that is making it hurt less. I don’t… know what it means, or if I want it to mean something even, but I honestly… I’m so scared, Simon. More than anything I’m just scared.”

The early summer breeze is warm and soothes him some. It’s as if he could hear Simon telling him to keep going, so he does.

“His name is Connor,” he blurts out. “He’s… well, thankfully for me, he’s fucking blind and can’t see how I look when I don’t feel like getting dressed.” He can almost hear Simon laughing at him, and he grunts, “shut the fuck up you know how I get. I’m glad you think the bed head, five day shadow, and wrinkled tee shirt look is hot, but most people don’t. At least he can’t tell what my shirts look like.” He huffs. “If he did he wouldn’t want to be seen near me. I mean, he’s always wearing a blazer over these button ups, and sometimes he has dark jeans and stuff but other times he’s dressed in a full suit and tie, all professional looking. He’s honestly beautiful, Simon, and I don’t know what… I don’t know what to do.” He sighs. “He is my only real friend in the whole precinct. I don’t want to ruin it with my stupid feelings. I’m… okay having him like this, you know? As my friend. Besides, anything more would… it would put him at risk, and I don’t want to lose him like I lost you.”

Feeling his spine straighten with the resolve, he nods to himself. “I’ll just have to keep my feelings to myself.” He kisses his index and middle finger, tapping them to the top of the smooth stone. He makes sure the grave is clean, any dirt or dead leaves removed and then places the flowers he had in his hand down before walking away.

He arrives home only to find Connor standing around at his front door. “What are you--I mean, hi, but what are you doing here?”

Connor startles when he hears Gavin’s voice, and then his expression morphs into something Gavin both adores and hates: compassion with no pity, worry, and something almost as if Gavin’s pain were his own, as if he could feel it in his own chest. “Gavin what happened to you? Are you okay?”

“Sure but… what the fuck are you doing here shouldn’t you be working?”

“Probably but I don’t care. Will you please… let me sit with you awhile?”

Gavin is confused. “You… don’t want to know why I took the day off? Everyone is always so nosy about it.”

“I… not if you don’t want to tell. I just… had this feeling all day, like you shouldn’t be alone. I didn’t want to ignore it.”

Gavin feels his heart do all kinds of things in his chest, and in that moment he knows for a fact that he is completely fucked. Not knowing what to say, he opens the door and leads Connor by the elbow to the couch. “Uhm… something to drink or--”

“What? Hey who’s this?” Connor laughs. When Gavin turns around his fucking cat is climbing all over Connor, getting her hair all over his suit.

“Fucking hell. Feel free to get that thing off you.”

“That’s not nice, is it? Oh, is it?” Connor is happily letting her rub herself everywhere, across his jacket and under his chin. “What’s your name, kitten?”

“She’s old and fat and her name is Alice.”

Connor laughs. “She’s cute. What does she look like?”

“Uh, this one is the one with the black and white patches everywhere. She’s got real long fluffy hair that’s a pain in the ass to clean and blue eyes that always know when I’m eating so they can be cute and get me to give her food.”

Connor laughs again. “Smart cat.”

“There are two more, but they normally aren’t this… friendly.”

Connor’s smile is brilliant, and Gavin’s chest does weird shit again. “Hey Alice,” he says into her fur. She honest-to-God purrs at him. “Where are your brothers or sisters, sweet girl?”

“In my bedroom probably, hiding.”

“They aren’t fans of new people?”

“More like they flat out hate people, including me.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“You’re right. They hate me until they can sleep on my bed.”

Connor laughs.

“Let me see if I can get them to come out.”

Moments later, Gavin has two cats securely in his lap, both refusing to move from his space. He tells Connor what those are like too; Boots is all black with white paws, hence the name, and bright green eyes, and Silver who is un-originally named this because of his shiny gray coat and yellow-green eyes. 

It turns into a half-hour conversation about their pets before Gavin says, “I know you’re on your lunch break. Want me to take you through a drive through or something before you head back?”

Connor smiles. “I’d appreciate that, thanks.” 

He gets Connor a classic big mac meal at McDonalds and a McFlurry as thanks for hanging out. 

“You didn’t have to…”

“Sure I did. Thank you for checking up on me. You… you made me feel a lot better.”

“Please call me if you need anything?” Connor whispers.

Gavin smiles and nods. “Count on it. There’s a lint roller in the pocket behind my seat… you’ve got cat hair  _ everywhere. _ ”

Connor laughs. “Thanks.”

* * *

 

Gavin doesn’t call until night time. “Can you… are you busy? Can you talk?”

“Of course I can talk,” Connor says. He flops onto his bed. Ever since he got home, Hank’s enormous dog has been following him everywhere and sniffing him, probably determined to identify the cats he played with earlier. Now as he lays back, the dog lays on him possessively, letting everyone know that that’s his human. “Oof,” Connor huffs as the dog flops right onto his chest. He heaves. “Oww-fuck, Sumo!”

Gavin laughs, having heard many tales of Sumo’s shenanigans before. “What’s that mutt doing now?”

“I don’t know. I think he doesn’t like my cat smell.”

“Better shower before he suffocates you.”

“I’ll be fine. Will you tell me what was on your mind today?”

Gavin hesitates.

“Look, you know I’m not going to say your business anywhere, and you know that I just want to help. If you’re not comfortable, that’s fine. But if you need to talk…”

Gavin spills his guts like a baby. He tells Connor about his family, about how the only one that supported him when he came out was his sister Allison, who is much younger than him and still finishing her Master’s Degree. He tells Connor about how his parents told him that he’d end up being a nobody, and how he left Chicago as a result of his family’s opinions. He spent a lot of time wondering what to do with his life after that. He wandered his way to Detroit, honestly, not meaning to end up here but finding it to be a world of opportunity.

“How did you become a cop?”

“It was a weird night. I was driving home and would have blown through a red light but there was a cop right behind me and I didn’t dare. But that ended up saving my ass ‘cause the only guy that crossed the intersection was some drunk asshole that crashed into the traffic light pole and brought it down right on top of him and into the middle of the intersection.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yeah that was… something. He was fine, drunk bastard, but that thing could have come down on me, you know? After that I just started thinking. I knew I could be a good cop. I wanted to be kind of like the ones you always see on tv, able to keep their chill in any situation.”

“You are,” Connor says kindly.

“So I joined the force. Around the same time I met…” he swallows. “I met Simon. He was… a lot younger than me, I was twenty three when I started in the DPD, and he was seventeen. It was… weird. He wasn’t legal, you know? But I knew he was my…”

“Your what?” Connor whispers.

“My forever,” Gavin says painfully.

“Oh Gav…”

“We waited until he started college, you know? We did everything right. We had a good time together,” Gavin says with a smile, even though tears are already coursing down his face. “He was always smiling and every misfortune with him ended up being something to laugh about later. I… I really loved him, Connor. His family accepted me and gave me the home I wish I had been given with my own family. His sister and mine are still best friends. I… he was my life.”

“What happened?” Connor asks, but his stomach is sour, dreading the answer.

“It was six years ago now… we had been together for four years. This year we’d… it would be our tenth year, can you imagine? But… I got involved in this ongoing case in Vice… they were constantly borrowing us for raids and stuff, and I got invested. Started helping out, poking around, canvassing. I shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he mourns.

“Gavin…” Connor whispers, his voice tight with horror. He already knows how this story ends.

“I was going to ask him to marry me that day. Six years ago, today. And, our anniversary.” Gavin sucks in a breath, steeling his nerves for his next words. “I asked him to meet me, to take him to dinner. I had planned it, dinner, and then drinks in a karaoke spot downtown, and I would sing to him and then ask him to marry me. But we never got that far. 

“I was… standing outside with the lead detective, waiting for Simon, and then I saw him and he ran right into my arms and kissed me, and it was the happiest I’d been all day. I guess he saw the car with the shooters before I could because he shoved me into the ground hard. The lead detective--he’s a captain now, I think, last name Allen-- chased after them and tried to blow their tires but… it was too late. They fired on us with an automatic rifle. Simon and two other people were hit.”

Connor lets silent tears fall for his friend, blinking when his eyes sting. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“He was hit in the side and in the chest… and in the neck. I tried to stop the bleeding but… he died in my arms. We buried him with the ring I was going to give him.”

“I can’t imagine how painful that must still be.”

“I’m okay now, I think… sometimes these few weeks surrounding when he died they’re always…  _ hard… _ but I… thank you for coming to see me. You made it hurt less.”

Connor smiles. “I would hug you now if I could.”

“Come over,” Gavin says thoughtlessly. “Alice misses you. Honestly you should hug her more.”

Connor chuckles, wiping at his face with his hoodie sleeve. “Sure. I’ll bring a movie?”

“And lots of liquor.”

Connor shakes his head, but agrees anyway.


	6. six

Sitting with Connor, their feet on the coffee table/ottoman, laughing, drinking beer, eating popcorn and candy, and generally having a good time on this day should be a betrayal--should  _ feel  _ like a betrayal to Simon’s memory. Instead, it feels like Simon would have wanted for him to have someone new to relax with, to have  _ fun _ with.

And he is having fun, so much fun.

Not to mention, he has never seen Connor like this before… normally, even when they hang out outside of work, Connor looks  _ sharp.  _ There’s always a blazer over a tee shirt, or a button up shirt with dark skinny jeans, or something that frankly, makes him look like a wet dream. Today, though… today Connor has a baby blue hoodie, the sleeves pushed up on his arms, and dark heather joggers , and he’s wearing slides instead of any fancy, dressy shoes. Gavin thanks anyone listening that he can check the younger man out without getting caught.

During a break between movies, Connor gets up and makes his way to the counter. “Shot glasses,” he demands, and Gavin shakes his head. “You’re four beers in.”

“And I bet I can hold my liquor better than you! Come on, I didn’t buy all this for nothing.”

Gavin pours a shot and a half of whiskey in a shaker with ice and adds a tiny bit of sour mix, and then pours the shaken contents into two shot glasses. “To lightening the mood,” he toasts.

“To friendship,” Connor adds with a smile. He doesn’t even wince as he downs the shot.

“Okay, Badass,” Gavin growls, pissed at how easy that was. He pours another shot, just whiskey. 

Connor  _ winks _ . He fucking winks! “To trying to catch up,” he says.

“To getting fucked up,” Gavin mutters. Connor doesn’t even wince again, and Gavin gives up with a grumbled “fuck you” that makes Connor laugh.

They finish all their movies around four in the morning. Connor is asleep on the couch with Alice on his chest and his black cat, Boots on his feet, and he takes a picture with his phone of the sight, smiling at Connor’s peaceful face.

The next day is thankfully a Saturday, and he lets Connor sleep as much as he wants, wandering into the living room around nine in the morning and finding him curled around Alice with Boots perched on his shoulder for all the world like a king, and Silver on his feet.

Gavin takes another picture. It blows him that they like him so much and so quickly, after he had to literally bribe them to love him for years. He walks into the kitchen with a chuckle. “Fucking cats,” he mutters under his breath.

Connor doesn’t wake up until after the waffles and bacon are cold almost two hours later. 

“Not even a headache?”

Connor shrugs. “My mouth is a little dry but…” he smiles over at Gavin. “Pretty much the same as ever. What about you?”

“I made waffles and bacon and eggs are you hungry?” he asks as he starts to reheat Connor’s plate.

“Oh my God… please.” Connor practically whimpers the words. His mouth, which was dry two seconds ago, is suddenly salivating. 

Gavin feels extremely awkward when he asks, “Uh… can you--do you want syrup? Can you like…”

Connor shakes his head. “I’ve got it,” he laughs, “just put it in my hand.”

“Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry! I never know what… how to go about asking those kinds of things.”

Connor tilts his head thoughtfully. “Just ask. Don’t worry, I’m not offended. I’d rather you let me decide what I can do and what I need help with than just try to do it for me.”

Gavin nods. “Fair enough.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Connor huffs.

“Alright, alright.”

“So… Rumor is there’s someone from back in the day that’s been coming around to see you.”

Connor smiles. “Yeah, that’s Josh, he was here for the week, but he’s flying home now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah he lives in Florida, that’s where he runs his business. Actually he got the idea helping me out with all my books.” Connor explains how Josh helped him order his books with Braille, and ended up helping several others he considers friends with accessibility on campus, and has now built a whole non-profit and network dedicated to helping college students with accessibility limitations on college campuses across America. The NPO has helped thousands of students and even freshly graduated individuals with vocational resources so that they don’t stay unemployed after they finish college.

Gavin hates how impressed Connor sounds. “Sounds like… a guy with a vision.”

Connor shrugs. “I guess if he’s sighted he should have a vision right?”

“Very funny. What’s the deal with him?”

“Ooh, sounds like--hmm, you look very green.” Connor tilts his head to the side and smirks… he doesn’t actually look  _ green,  _ but his light is very much sending the same message.

“I’m not--green, what are you talking about, you can’t even see me!”

Connor just shrugs.

“W-what, you  _ can _ see me?”

Connor sucks in a breath but exhales slowly. “I have a few times. But I can’t always.”

“Like how much?”

Connor smiles. “It’s a blur normally. But when the light is right, I can see the shape of your body and the shape of your face, but no details.”

“So I look like some kind of ghost?”

Connor laughs. “No, just like, some kind of backlit shadow. But I like your light, it’s… my favorite thing about you.”

Gavin tilts his head. “You like  _ my  _ light?”

Connor’s smile falls off his face like it’s been washed off with acid. “Um… yeah. Hey, listen, it’s been great hanging out, but I’ve got to…” he fumbles with his phone for a moment, and it seems based on the vocal feedback the device gives him that he’s asked his father for a ride home by text message. “Right. I’ve got to go.”

“W-what? Hey wait…”

But Connor is already striding out the door.


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's slip up makes him panic and pisses Gavin right the fuck off.

“I… I messed up, Dad, I really…”

“Hold on, Son, hold it now, I don’t understand.”

“I almost _told_ him, Dad! About my _sight!_ ”

Hank shrugs. “So?”

“So? _So?!_ Dad people can’t just _know_ about that stuff, they think you’re crazy!”

Hank side-eyes his son, trying to read the expression on his face as he drives. “You think he’ll think you’re a quack?”

“If he doesn’t already think that,” Connor mumbles.

Hank has to grab his hand to keep him from pulling his hand through his hair again, which he is yanking on in his ~~OVERWHELMING~~ mild panic. “Stop,” he says sternly. “Stop doing that, okay? Calm down.” It bothers Hank that Connor is like this—it’s a type of distress he hasn’t seen in his boy since he started going blind. “Look, in the end you didn’t tell him, so it doesn’t even matter.”

“Yeah well I said enough for him to figure out. He didn’t become a Sergeant Detective because he’s stupid.”

“I beg to differ,” Hank snorts. “Look, what is it that you see in him, anyway?”

“What nobody else could,” Connor says stubbornly, “except that if he ever finds that out, he’s going to stop talking to me and probably try to have me committed to the nearest looney bin.”

“First, you of all people know that disabilities, even mental ones, are not a joke. Second of all, the fact that you see anything in him at all—”

“He’s _good,_ Dad,” Connor whispers. “He’s smart and he’s good at his job but… there’s more. We had _fun_ last night! He’s laid back and he loves cats, and he makes great breakfast food, and he is _kind_ underneath all of that…”

“All of that _asshole?_ ”

“He’s just hurt, Dad,” Connor defends. “And guarded. I… when he told me why, I _knew_ that I was right about him all along. I’ve never seen his face, but I can see the anger and the sadness, and all the guilt etched on it, he drags it around with him everywhere! And lately, when he’s around me, that sort of falls away, and I can see the things that shine underneath it! He’s creative and friendly, loves to have a good time. And the more I talk to him, the more we find to have in common—or bicker about, it’s a toss up, really. He likes to laugh. We laugh a lot. And you know, he doesn’t treat me with kid gloves. I mean—he does get awkward when he thinks he’s going to offend me or baby me too much, and once the moment is over it’s like I’m any other normal person.” Connor sighs. “He is how he is at work because he thinks nobody will see anything else about him anyway, but he’s wrong. It just took the blind person to keep looking, I guess. But I won’t stop! I like having him around, Dad. And he likes having me around too, I can tell.”

Hank is silent for a long time before he says, “you should have been looking out for Cupid instead because it looks like that motherfucker shot you right on your ass.”

* * *

 

Gavin is confused.

One minute they were laughing and he and Connor were opening up to each other, and the next… the next Connor vanished into thin air. He doesn’t understand what made the mood change so quickly. He goes over the conversation a thousand times in his head, realizing that it wasn’t until he questioned Connor about his sight that Connor got antsy and closed off, and then he bolted in the next second.

 _Fuck._ He put his foot so far in his mouth that his toes were poking out of his ass and he looks like some kind of awkward pretzel. He sinks onto his couch and groans into his hands, pressing them against his face.

“Why can’t I do _anythING RIGHT?!”_ he screams into his hands. He stands up to punch a wall, but thankfully for his deposit and his fist decides against it, stuffing his fist into his mouth instead, his teeth cutting into his knuckles.

This kind of anger is the most bitter, because it always comes with self-loathing and guilt. There isn’t anything to be angry about except his own _fucking stupid_ mistakes. Of course Connor got pissed, why would anyone question a blind person’s disability? What if Connor never speaks to him again?

He should have known better than to try to have a friend. The only thing that could have come of it was for him to be left alone again. Worse, now he has feelings for the guy, and he’ll never be able to say anything about it because he’s finally convinced Connor that he is an asshole, someone to stay away from.

Not for the first time, Gavin truly hates himself.

There was something he must have said that triggered him, something that—

_“You like *my* light?”_

Gavin freezes. “I have my own light?” he asks the empty air around him, feeling stupid and out of sorts.

Then he frowns. That is irrational, Connor was probably talking about the way Gavin looks on the occasions he can actually perceive him.

But his gut was telling him that wasn’t the case. Something was up, something that Connor felt about his extremely limited vision that made him feel like each person had their own light.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and starts googling things. He spends hours that way, but he doesn’t find much of anything that soothes the knot in his stomach other than confirmation that he probably insulted Connor somehow.

He decides to search for things relating to him having his own light instead, and then he starts seeing all kinds of weird shit: how to communicate with the dead, what certain colors of light mean when they are on someone, or around someone.

“No,” he whispers slowly, not believing what he is reading. “This stuff is obviously bullshit,” he says out loud. “This stuff isn’t supposed to exist.”

But the knot in his stomach is gone, and he knows that no matter how impossible it seems, Connor’s vision is sharper than anyone could have dreamed. Suddenly, it’s like all the pieces have clicked together concerning his friendship with the younger man: how easy it had been to forgive him for being so rude and angry, how he’d opened up about his life, how easy it had been to talk to him… how Connor _knew_ that his anger came from grief and loneliness, and how he’d also known to visit him on Simon’s day, even though he couldn’t have known why. Also, all of the things that Connor's friends said about him seem to fit: how he always knows what to say to Chen, how he gets along so easily with Miller and Wilson... how he  _knows_ them even though it seems that they only know him rather superficially. Granted, that short foray into Connor's life got sidetracked by his jealousy over Josh, but still, he couldn't have known so much about his coworkers by the casual conversations he's seen them have. It is possible that Connor has run backgrounds on the cops he works with, and even that Simon’s death could have come up in someone’s notes or one of his files. But knowing Connor, he knows that that is extremely unlikely. Connor likes people a lot, but he isn’t nosy.

No, Connor knew because he could sense it in Gavin’s _light,_ whatever that means.

* * *

 

Everyone in the office is awkward because Connor hasn’t said a word to anyone all day, his anxiety and exhaustion plain on his face. When Gavin walks in, he stops awkwardly at Connor’s desk, but is unable to say anything before he stalks away, cursing himself under his breath.

Hank sees the interaction from his desk and sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t really want Gavin to be the person Connor fixed his heart on, but it’s not like he has a say and there’s not really any changing that now.

Now he just hopes those two will stop being so awkward and just get together already. He wants to see his son happy in love before retirement—or before he dies at this rate.

Reed is in pretty much the same state as Connor: flustered, anxious, clearly feeling guilty and afraid for whatever happened between them the day before. Reed is much more agitated though; where Connor tends to go quiet when he is upset, Gavin Reed is like a volcano: loud, angry, and very hard to miss when the explosion is coming in your direction.

He doesn’t like that his son might be on the receiving end of that lava though. At some point, he sees Connor get up and drop something into Fowler’s inbox and on several others, including his. “You okay, kid?” he asks lowly.

“Fine,” Connor answers. “I just… need a break. I’m going down to the archive room for a while, there are things I need to do there.”

Hank nods, patting Connor’s back. “Take your time, kid. I’ll let Fowler know you’re busy if he asks.

“Thanks,” he whispers before taking off.

Five minutes later, he sees Reed slam his fist on his desk and stalk out of the bullpen. Hank shrugs. This will either blow up, or it will calm down. He hopes for the latter.

* * *

 

“Connor.”

Connor stiffens, a jolt of fear locking his spine in place for a moment before he releases his breath in a huff. “Hey, Gavin,” he says quietly. “Is there… uh, is there something you need from me?”

Gavin snarls. “Yeah, I need you to fucking tell me what the hell happened yesterday.”

Connor’s shoulders slump. “I can’t.”

“For fuck sakes,” he hisses. He slams his hand on the door, causing Connor to jump. “Fuck! I should have known.” He turns to glare at Connor, not even caring that he can’t see him. “You are just like everyone else, Connor! You let me think we’re friends but the second I _fuck_ it up, you’re gone! And then everyone wonders why I don’t want anyone near me!”

“Gav…”

“Fuck, Connor, I’m sorry, okay? Whatever I said that made you run, I didn’t mean to make you feel any type of way.”

“You didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? Come on. I know you got offended when I asked about your vision, and I know that’s because you have some kind of psychic whatever-the-fuck that lets you see people even though you’re blind—”

Connor’s face melts into sheer panic. “Gavin… please, I don’t really…”

“Don’t really what? Don’t really talk about it? So what, you can know all about my dead boyfriend and all my family drama, and all my secrets but this one little thing is going to push me away from you?! Ha!” Gavin laughs derisively, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t really give a fuck, okay?”

“W-what?”

“I _said,_ it doesn’t bother me or whatever you thought would happen. I don’t _give_ a _fuck!_ But you still ran off like a little bitch without even knowing how I would react! Wow, does everyone expect me to be so much of an asshole that even my so-called friend expects that reaction and fucking runs? Holy shit!”

“I’m sorry,” Connor whispers. “You’re right, I should have… I should have trusted you. I just… don’t talk about it, ever. People would think that I’m… that I’m _crazy_ or that I have mental problems from being blind, I don’t know.”

“And you really think I would think that of you?”

Connor shakes his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. “N-no, but I… I’m just scared,” he whispers finally. “You’re my best friend, Gavin, I don’t think you could—I didn’t _want you_ to think—but if you did I would be… I would be _devastated_.”

Gavin shakes his head, pulling his hands through his hair as he turns away. “Best friend,” he repeats sourly, his tone mocking the words as if he finds them disgusting. “Fuck.”

“W-what?”

“Your fucking _best friend_ . Fuck that shit, do you hear me? _Fuck. That.”_

Connor’s tears run in endless streams now. Even though he can’t see them blurring his vision, he can feel the pressure of them, and the heat of them on his face as they roll down. “Gavin, y-you don’t mean that, I know you’re angry at me but—”

“But what? I don’t want to be your _best friend,_ okay? At least, not the kind that you don’t trust with your own fucking secrets after I trusted you with my entire life! You don’t know how hard that was for me, how hard it’s been for me these last few weeks. I know you can… can tell, have some idea that it’s painful but… fuck!

“And you know what else?  You’re acting like being some kind of psychic is like a deadly diseases that’s contagious or something, like I’m going to fuck off the second you tell me when in reality it’s pretty fucking cool that you can do that.”

“It’s… not really… I see emotions.”

“W-what?”

“I can see your, like, aura or whatever, but it’s not the same. I don’t read aural energies, I see the energy expended by your body because of your emotions or physical conditions. It’s like… visual empathy, or something.”

Gavin stares at him in silence before a full minute. “So you…?”

“I can see your grief, and your anger over what happened to… _Simon_. But I can see that you have other emotions and abilities too. And I can see that over time, your sadness and anger are starting to fade...”

Gavin gulps.

“They’ve started to fade and you’ve been afraid to let those feelings go, so you keep making yourself feel angry and guilty when you don’t have to anymore.”

“Connor…”

“I’m sorry. I… I know now that I should have told you. Being afraid of saying this out loud for so long has been… but it was so easy with you, I let it slip. I should have just been honest instead of running away. I was a coward, and I hope you can forgive me.”

“Oh for fuck sakes, shut up already,” Gavin huffs. “It’s not that big a deal! I just wish you’d told me you didn’t want to talk about it, instead of getting all panicky! I thought I did something wrong.”

“You didn’t. I’m…”

“Sorry?” Gavin snorts. “Fuck that and fuck you for saying that.”

Connor feels like the insides of his chest has been put in a shredder. “Gav…”

“Don’t. Just… let me think, okay?”

Connor’s shoulders slump even further in defeat. “I… okay.”

Gavin sighs, giving him an exasperated look. “I’m not dumping you, okay? Unlike you, I don’t run away from my problems.”

“Ouch,” Connor whispers.

“Whatever,” Gavin mutters. But he’s smiling, and Connor is too albeit tentatively. He sniffs, trying to get himself together.

“Fuck, stop crying,” Gavin says, pulling on the cuff of his sweatshirt so that he can dry Connor’s face. “That shit is heartbreaking, okay?”

“I…”

“Don’t fucking apologize, just… stop apologizing. We were pissed and we argued and you cried, and now that’s over so you can stop crying and I promise I’ll stop fucking yelling okay?”

Connor chuckles. “Okay. Thank you.” He likes how close they are like this—it’s like Gavin’s light is engulfing him too, and he can feel the tingle of the distinct pink surrounding them, misty and brilliant.

He can sense Gavin looking at his face, feel the warmth of his gaze on his cheeks, on his nose and lips, meeting his eyes. The minimal space between them is stifling in the best way, and he can’t seem to inhale right. “Gavin?” he whispers.

Gavin gives a lazy hum, and he can hear the smile in it.

“Are you… are you going to kiss me?”

“Do you want me to?” Gavin murmurs. Connor can feel the whispers of air from the words on his lips.

“I… am confused,” he says honestly. “I know that you… that you _want_ to kiss me, I can _see_ it. But… you don’t want to be my best friend anymore,” he ends in a forlorn whisper.

Gavin frowns. “I guess I should… I should explain that.” He steps back, releasing the tension between them. “When you came to see me, I was… I was just getting back from visiting Simon.”

“Oh.”

“I… told him about you, about how I’ve been… feeling things… for you. But then I had to end my visit and _clean his grave._ I don’t… I don’t think you can ever know how confusing and painful that is, even after all this time. Connor, I know that the more time I spend with you, the more likely I am to fall in love with you. But I’m scared too, I… _can’t_ lose someone I love like that again.” Gavin finds himself shaking, so he rolls his fingers into tight fists to keep his hands from trembling. “I’m afraid of losing you, Connor. Like I lost him.”

Connor shakes his head. “You won’t,” he says stubbornly.

“You don’t know that,” Gavin whispers. “And neither do I. Connor, if I let myself do this, and I let myself  fall for you, and you’re gone, or God forbid, _killed…_ because of something I did, I will not live through it, do you hear me? I won’t.”

Connor’s entire chest hitches, and more tears come from his eyes again. “I wish I know how to do anything other than just _see_ your pain,” he mourns. “I wish I knew how to take all of it away so that you wouldn’t have to be so scared.”

Gavin hangs his head. “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy,” he says quietly. “It’s the worst thing I have ever been through.” He leans on the door heavily, trying to regain control of himself. “I… told myself… I told Simon that I wouldn’t let myself do anything about my feelings for you because of that, because… of how afraid I am, and because the risk is so much higher this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… we work homicide. Me _and_ your dad. What if I didn’t do anything, but your dad did, and someone hurt you or took you away from me? I would… fuck. You _work_ here! They could try to hurt you anyway! I don’t know. I know it’s irrational now, it _feels_ irrational, but… the truth is, you _are_  my best friend, my only true friend, and it turns out you’re really fucking cool and fun to hang out with, and I like this. I can… keep you _safe_ … like this.”

Connor closes his eyes, taking several grounding breaths. “You’re not more afraid than you want me,” he whispers.

“What?”

“You always look happy to see me.”

“What?”

“Whenever you’re working, and I can see your light it’s calm… focused. Your light is kind of like Fowler’s sometimes, red-orange, or green with blue—normally people are like that when they’re using a lot of their intellect, creativity, or something like that. It’s honestly actually rare, I don’t see people that glow like that often. In the morning your light is always dim and cloudy because you’re sad and angry. Sometimes cases make you feel that way too. But...with me, your light is different. It’s soft, like fog or mist, and it’s pink. But there are no other colors at all… it’s like the

way you feel about me takes over everything else. ”

Gain snorts. “That’s because it does.”

“If I wanted to spend my entire life afraid for my future, you would never have met me,” he says. “I want you to kiss me. If you… decide that’s not what you want, I won’t hold it against you. But I won’t put my life on hold because someone or something could ruin it. It already has, but I’m still here.”

Gavin’s spine is shaking this time, and he has no idea how to stop that, except to just go to him and kiss him half to death. “I… want to be that brave,” he says. He feels like all the air is leaving the room. “Fuck being your best fucking _friend_ , Connor, I want… so much _more._ ”

Connor shrugs. “Then I guess you know what you have to do.”

He’s not even sure he’s completed his sentence before Gavin’s arm comes around his waist and he’s being crowded against the door, their bodies pressed tightly together. Gavin growls, “Fuck you, Connor. Fuck the hell out of you.” And then he presses his mouth neatly against Connor’s, muting the “hey!” protest that Connor was trying to get out with his tongue.

The kiss is deep and almost angry on his part, but on Connor’s part, he can almost see the excitement and triumph surrounding them, which he finds ironic. Connor’s lips are clumsy and soft, and he slows the kiss a little bit, allowing Connor to explore. He does so timidly, his lips and tongue sweeping at first his upper lip, and then his lower lip. His tongue is sweet and wet, his mouth warm. Gavin can’t help himself, he smiles. It might not be his first kiss, but Connor definitely hasn’t spent his life making out with people. Something about that makes him feel very important and special, and it makes this kiss feel like tingles all over his body. He decides that kissing Connor is like magic or something else really cheesy.

“Thank you,” he says against Connor’s lips when the kiss finally breaks.

“W-what? For what?”

Gavin smiles. “Nothing.”

Connor’s eyebrows pull together. “But…”

“I will say this, I hope you make a better boyfriend than you do a best friend,” Gavin teases.

Connor’s jaw drops. “Hey!”

“So far you’re doing doing great, ten out of ten.”

Connor grunts and opens the door, shoving him out. “Get out, I have stuff to do!”

“W-what? Wow, I take it back, zero out of ten for you!”

“You’re one to talk, you haven’t even asked me properly yet! ‘Fuck you’ and ‘you’re an awful best friend’ are not good ways to ask someone out.”

Gavin laughs. “Connor?”

“What?”

“Will you be my boyfriend? I’m asking politely.”

“Fine,” Connor huffs, leaning in the door frame. “But I have rules.”

“Oh?”

“First… thank you for being brave with me. I know that it will be hard or you still, and that’s why I want us to take our time.”

Gavin’s smirk melts into an appreciative smile. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Second, _you_ are going to have to suck it up and be nice to my dad.”

Gavin huffs.

“And everyone else!”

“You’re pushing your luck.”

“You’d better!”

“And third?”

“Third, kiss me again.”

Gavin chuckles, framing Connor’s jaw and cheeks in his hand. “With pleasure, baby.”

“And every chance you get!”

Gavin presses their lips together in a gentle peck. “I promise,” he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only an epilogue left! 
> 
> thanks for all the kudos! let me know what you guys are thinking about this story, what else you'd like to have seen, and if there are any errors or typos of course!
> 
> y'all are the best,  
> <3


	8. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> four and a half years later

“Are you ready, babe? We’re going to be late for our reservation!” Connor nags, already having his coat and hat on.

Gavin finishes arranging his desk and smiles, giving everything one last once-over before taking his boyfriend’s hand and bringing it to his lips with a wink. “Let’s go.” Connor huffs, and Gavin pauses, kisses his lips, and then takes his hand. “Better?” he asks with a smirk.

Connor snuggles against his arm and nods, his cheeks pink and his smile light and dopey. “Much,” he answers.

Yes, Gavin still keeps that rule, the one he promised about so long ago. Every chance he gets, and even chances he has to steal, he seeks Connor out and kisses him. When they’re outside the office he can’t keep his hands or his lips off anyway, but in the office? Oh, that’s where he has all his fun. That is one thing he loves to tease Connor with, watching his pretty face turn light pink when he gets to kiss him at work. It makes for a fun challenge for Gavin to find reasons to go by his desk or find him in the break or archives room and steal kisses from his sweet boyfriend’s soft lips. Connor always gets flushed or flustered, but appreciates the affection (read: arousal) just the same.

The other effect the rule has had is that it keeps him sane. In the days after an argument or after a bad case, or trying and failing to get along with one idiot cop or another renders him needing the comfort of Connor’s lips, and Connor always knows when those moments happen. It’s a silly and sweet way to let each other know that they are loved, and Gavin intends to keep it as long as he can.

Vincini’s isn’t packed like normal, and Gavin is grateful for that small mercy as he smoothly guides Connor into his seat.

Connor’s annoying rules got less annoying over time. He got to really know the people in his office, realizing that once he started to let his guard down some, they seemed to perceive his willingness to change and started to befriend him. He did his best to take Connor’s advice and ‘not open with the asshole bit’ and it worked… most of the time.

He and Hank get along too now, although the lieutenant still gives him the occasional side-eye or starts to clean his guns while Gavin is around in the house. Gavin’s answer to that one day was to sit down next to the man and start cleaning his own.

Connor had found the result of this tactic hilarious for months, but in the end finally Hank had to give in and allow that Gavin is definitely not the asshole everyone thought he was, and definitely not the absolute asshole he knew the man used to be.

They did take their time, too. They rebuilt their trust and friendship until it was deep and strong, and their love only grew every day. 

Gavin asked Fowler for a referral to one of the department’s shrinks on his own and with her help, he slowly let go of his sadness for Simon’s death, learning healthy ways to cope with his emotions and say goodbye to the once love of his life. 

What was left when all of his pain and anger were finally gone was an immense gratitude for who Simon had been to him. Sometimes, even though he didn’t really believe in that shit, he liked to think that it was Simon that showed him Connor, the one person that would make him happy now that he was gone. 

When he stopped being afraid, his commitment and love for Connor grew so quickly he thought it would swallow him whole, and in return, Connor gave himself away, body and soul. Gavin felt that he gave himself away too, but for once, he doesn’t feel afraid or threatened. In fact, he feels stronger than ever.

During that time, Connor’s empathic ability accidentally leaked to the rest of the squad, and in addition to his administrative assistant duties, from time to time he sat in observation and watched interrogations, seeing the emotional energy the person of interest was giving off. More than once, his insights have helped catch the most heinous of killers, and several times, he’s helped innocents go free. He found that it didn’t change his friendships at all, and that people that knew him appreciated his abilities and  _ disabilities  _ under a whole new light. More importantly for Connor, it has kept the communication between him and Gavin open and honest, and that has had a tremendous impact on their happiness. Connor has gone from being afraid to talk about his vision to being strengthened by it.

It’s those things that are helping him keep his anxiety at bay now. He’d made a promise to himself, one he promised to keep at all costs: if he and Connor made it four years together, he would propose.

Today makes four and a half years since they first got together. Gavin has saved for six months, giving himself time to find a ring he thought would suit Connor’s body type and personality, something bright and cheerful, but simple. It was easier said than done for a long time before he  [ found ](https://cdn7.bigcommerce.com/s-77qyoan9x9/images/stencil/600x480/products/6425/34943/il_570xN.1214744976_qrxy__67764.1516434643.jpg?c=2) a simple band with a gem called moissanite that was so brilliant and beautiful, he knew it was just right or Connor.

He won’t propose during dinner, though. Connor would be expecting that, and he would hate the attention.

So, they finish dinner and stroll to the park together. The city has had Christmas lights up in some of the trees since the end of Thanksgiving. Connor loves winter and finds himself enjoying the cold air near the river while Gavin entertains himself with the displays of sparkling light dancing in icy trees and reflecting in the snow and ice below.

Connor is smiling wide when he turns to Gavin. “Okay, now tell me what’s had you so excited all night.”

Gavin laughs, pulling him toward a bench and sitting next to him. “Can’t hide anything from you, baby.”

“Nope,” he grins. “Now tell me.”

Gavin reaches into his pocket. “I just… want to thank you. My life is completely different than it was four years ago, and you’re the reason for that. I don’t think I would have been strong enough, or brave enough, to try to get my happiness back, if you hadn’t been my reason.”

Connor leans over and kisses him deeply. “I love you too, Gav,” he whispers.

“I knew you were trouble,” he murmurs. “I knew from the beginning that you would change everything. But I could never have stayed away.”

“Why?” Connor asks, but he nips at Gavin’s lips with his trying to instigate another kiss. 

Gavin gives in to a short peck with a chuckle before he says, “Because you believed me. You believed in me. You  _ saw  _ me, baby, and that’s everything. From the beginning you knew that there was more than what the average person could see in me.”

“Funny how it took a blind person to see that.”

“Hysterical,” Gavin agrees. Then he says, “I want you with me always. You’re my forever, do you know that?”

Connor’s cheeks turn pink. “Am I?”

“Absolutely. And I want to spend every second of it with you.” Gavin pulls Connor’s gloves off his hands and places the ring in his palm, letting him feel what it is before he kneels.

When he realizes what’s happening, Connor’s jaw drops. “Gav?!”

“Connor Anderson, I’m grateful for you and for every bit of happiness, sadness, and every emotion in between that I’ve had since I’ve been with you. I swear on my life I will spend forever at your side in every moment, supporting you, keeping you safe, holding your hand. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too,” Connor whispers.

“I know.” Gavin smiles brilliantly. And it’s true.  After all this time, he knows that even though Connor can’t see his face, he’ll see every bit of his elation. There’s something deeply peaceful about that knowledge, about the fact that Connor will always see exactly how much he loves him. He sees it better than anyone else.

He takes a deep breath and asks, “Will you marry me?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cut and wrap! hey thanks for loving this story so much guys! keep the kudos and comments coming anyway, let me know what you think! 
> 
> I usually end all my fics with a page for fic recs and links, and I think i wanna do that here so, stay tuned for a possible little author note coming soon, and feel free to spam me with fics i should read and add to my fic recs! You can leave them in the comments or find me in my [channel](https://discord.gg/axJa2rA) on discord for previews and screenshots of stuff I’m working on, or around in the fantastic [New ERA](https://discord.gg/2n6njUS) server which already has a ton of fic recs and authors for you guys to check out. You can also find me in these servers [here](https://discord.gg/d9xXB4g) or [right here](https://discord.gg/pAZBPm7) which are smaller and can use our support.
> 
> See you guys around! y'all rock.  
> <3Daisy


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